Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

by Brian S. Pratt

  On his right, the mass of fallen trees came to an end. As he passed beyond, a flash of white caught his eye. It appeared for only a brief moment before vanishing behind a tall oak tree.

  Drawing his sword, Scar pointed the blade toward the tree. “There. Saw something.”

  Potbelly drew his sword and came up next to his friend. “What was it?”

  “Not sure. It was white, though.”

  Jira turned a nervous look toward her father. “A ghost?”

  He gave her a reassuring grin. “I don’t think so.”

  Scar and Potbelly nudged their horses toward the tree with Shorty coming up behind. Father Keller hurried to join them.

  Overhearing Jira’s question, he glanced to Miko who shook his head. “It is of this world. Of that I am certain.”

  “What is it, then?”

  Miko shrugged. “We shall see soon enough.”

  Scar kicked his horse into a trot and covered the distance to the tree. Keeping distance between him and whatever lay behind it, he circled around to the left; Potbelly went to the right.

  “Hey!” he cried as he came to a sudden stop. “It’s a woman.”

  “Is she okay?” Concern on his face, Miko hurried forward.

  Ignoring the question, Scar dismounted and took a slow couple steps toward her. “Ma’am?”

  She neither glanced his way nor indicated in any manner that she was aware of his presence; merely looked off in the distance to some faraway point. The white that Scar had seen was that of the woman’s nightgown. Her feet were bare, muddy, and bore many small scratches; a face that must have at one time been beautiful was drawn and gaunt.

  Scar came to a stop several feet from her and cast a questioning glance over her head to where Potbelly still sat atop his horse. Potbelly shrugged and shook his head.

  By this time, Miko had ridden to where Scar’s horse stood and dismounted. The glow of Morcyth surrounded him.

  “What’s…?” Scar began but stopped when Miko waved him silent.

  “Scar, Potbelly, Shorty, search the area. See if there are others,” Jiron said.

  Potbelly glanced uneasily at the girl that now stood enveloped in the glow of Morcyth, then nodded.

  “Don’t move out of our line of sight,” James advised. When the others glanced to him he added, “Just don’t go too far.”

  “Right.” Scar returned to his horse and the three former pit fighters moved off to canvas the area.

  “Is she okay, Father?”

  Jiron glanced to his daughter and saw the worry in her eyes. “I don’t know, Jira. If she can be helped, your uncle is the one to do it.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes from the woman. In a small voice, she said, “I hope so.”

  Fathers Keller and Vickor came to stand next to Miko but remained silent so as not to disturb him. Kip joined them but looked out of place and unsure what he should do.

  Everyone remained silent while the glow surrounded her. When it at last vanished, Miko turned to James and shook his head.

  “There is nothing.”

  “Nothing? What do you mean?”

  “Her mind is gone. Some rudimentary abilities remain in place, but what made her who she was is no more.”

  “Do you have any idea how this happened?” James asked.

  “Magic. There is a trace of recent activity about her.”

  “Maybe this happened to the rest of Tinker?”

  All eyes turned to Father Vickor.

  “If it happened to one,” the priest stated, “it could have happened to all. That would explain the emptiness of the town.”

  James nodded.

  The sound of approaching horses heralded the return of Scar and the others. A fourth horseman accompanied them. As they drew closer, Black Hawk’s emblem could be seen upon the rider’s left breast. He looked too young to be one of Illan’s original Raiders, probably one of the newer recruits.

  James pulled his hood close about him to shield his identity; Jiron did likewise.

  Miko ignored the riders and stepped toward the woman. He laid a hand along the side of her jaw raising her face. Lifeless orbs such as one would find on a cadaver, stared into his. He searched for any indication his earlier diagnosis could be in error. Sighing in sadness, he let go of her chin and turned to the riders.

  “Reverend Father,” the rider said as he came to a stop before Miko.

  Miko recognized him from a visit he paid Black Hawk a year ago.

  The rider glanced to the woman. “I see you have found another.”

  “Another?”

  He nodded. “We’ve found them wandering throughout the hills.”

  “I feared as much.”

  “I’m sure Lord Black Hawk will want to confer with you about this.”

  “Yes, I would like to speak with him.”

  Taking the horn hanging across his breast, the rider blew two quick notes. Before the second tone faded to silence, two Raiders appeared at a quick trot.

  “They will see to the woman, Reverend Father. If you will accompany me, I shall take you to Lord Black Hawk.”

  Miko glanced to James who nodded. Returning his attention to the Raider, he said, “Give me but a moment.”

  “As you wish, Reverend Father.”

  The two Raiders came and one dismounted. He very gently lifted the woman onto his horse then swung up behind her and the three of them headed toward where the trail moved deeper into the hills.

  “You do realize there is no way we can maintain our anonymity once we reach Illan’s encampment?” Turning toward his friend, James saw Jiron indicate Jira with a nod of her head. “Too many know her.”

  “I knew it couldn’t last forever. Hopefully we have already bought sufficient time for us to reach our families before the enemy discovers our return and moves on them.”

  “We don’t even know who this enemy is.”

  “I know. But we will.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Illan’s encampment lay three miles deeper within the hills at a small collection of ramshackled buildings known only as Red’s Place. A wagon trail departed Red’s Place toward a mine entrance less than a mile through the hills to the east.

  Before his men’s tents came into view, other Raiders were seen coming and going. As often as not, those making their way to the encampment had vacant-eyed villagers in tow.

  One Raider, a grizzled veteran who had been with Illan during the War of Barrowman’s Field, wept unashamedly as he rode with a small girl seated before him. Her eyes were similarly vacant.

  A stockade of sorts had been erected off to one side near the edge of Red’s Place; scores of people were held within. Some wandered from one place to another, though the majority simply stood motionless.

  “You keep them locked up?” asked Scar.

  The Raider nodded. “If we don’t, they wander off and get hurt.” He glanced to Miko. “I hope you can help them, Reverend Father.”

  “I shall do what I can.”

  As they went around the wooden stockade, James glanced at the people within. Lifeless eyes gazed outward; mouths partially opened with drool-streaked dirty chins and necks; he seriously doubted if Miko would be able to help. Riding next to him, he could hear Jiron whisper words of comfort to his daughter. When they left the stockade behind, James was relieved.

  The Raider led them to the largest building. It was situated between two smaller, single-room dwellings.

  “Lord Black Hawk has set up his headquarters in the miner’s mess.” Coming to a stop, he dismounted. The others followed suit.

  As they made for the door, it opened and out stepped a familiar face.

  “Well, well, well; are we glad to see you.”

  Tall and brown-haired, Uther gave them a grin.

  Miko stepped forward and shook his hand. “Heard Illan was out this way.” He glanced to the stockade. “Didn’t realize things were this bad.”

  “Bad? Man, you don’t know the half of it.”

 
Grinning at the use of the familiar rather than “Reverend Father,” Miko asked, “Is Illan here?”

  Uther nodded. Stepping to the side, he held the door open for Miko and the others to enter.

  Inside, they found the one known throughout the land as Lord Black Hawk seated at a table, deep in discussion with three of his senior Raiders. He broke off in mid-sentence upon noticing their approach. His eyes flicked first to Miko, then to those in attendance with the High Priest, lingering slightly longer on the two hooded individuals. Upon spying Jira his eyes widened in surprise then returned to the hooded man walking next to her. A barely perceptible nod followed. As he came to his feet, his gaze settled upon James.

  “Your timing couldn’t be better.”

  Miko stepped forward so as to interpose himself between James and Illan. “We are led where we are most needed,” the High Priest of Morcyth said, as if Illan’s remark had been directed at him.

  Illan took a moment as he grasped the dynamics of the situation. When he did, he turned to his men and said, “Gentlemen, you’re excused.”

  The oldest of the three Raiders was one their guests knew well. Nerun, a grizzled old-timer that had been with Illan since before Barrowman’s Field and had been with them five years earlier when James took the battle to the Empire, bore a thoughtful look. His gaze, too, went from Jira whom he knew well to the hooded men. What his thought may have been he kept to himself. He merely gave Illan a nod then led the other two Raiders from the room.

  Illan turned to the Raider that had brought the newcomers. “Holbeck, see that we are not disturbed.”

  Snapping to attention, Raider Holbeck saluted, turned, and left. Once the door closed, he took position just outside.

  To James, Illan said, “You are the last person I thought to see in this godforsaken place.”

  “Thought I was dead?” Pulling back his hood, he came forward and shook Illan’s hand.

  “Not for one second. I’d have to see your lifeless corpse before I would ever believe you had been overcome. The things you did…”

  “Uncle Illan!”

  Jira disengaged from her father and raced forward. He clasped his arms around her, lifted her from the ground, and gave her a big hug. “How have you been, little one?”

  “We’re on our way to see Mother,” she replied in excited little-girl fashion. “You’ll never believe where we’ve…”

  “Jira,” Jiron said with a commanding tone. When his daughter glanced over her shoulder, he fixed her with a disapproving glare and shook his head. “Not now.”

  Illan gave her a smile, then set her back on the floor.

  James nodded out the window toward the stockade. “What happened to them?”

  “Word came that there had been disappearances in this area. I came to investigate. They were like this when we arrived.”

  “Is everyone so afflicted?”

  Illan turned toward Miko and nodded. “As near as we can figure. Not one of Tinker’s inhabitants has been found otherwise.”

  “We encountered one on the way in, a woman,” James explained. “Two of your men took charge of her.”

  “I’ve had them combing the hills for the last two days. Everyone they find is the same. Vacant eyes and no will of their own.”

  “It is their mind,” Miko said. “There is nothing.”

  “That’s what I figured.”

  “Any idea how this came to happen?” James asked.

  Illan nodded. “A creature; part man, part beast.”

  “We heard of a talking beast in a village back down the road,” Jiron said as he turned to James. “Think it’s the same?”

  His eyes flicked from Jiron to Illan then back before nodding. “It’s likely.”

  “Well then, let’s just send out a hunting party and take it down,” Scar said.

  “We tried that,” Illan replied.

  James could tell there was more to the story. “What happened?”

  Moving to the window, he gestured to the stockade. “Found them wandering around like the villagers a few hours later.” Intermixed among the scores of townsfolk were the unmistakable uniforms of his men.

  “After that, we tracked the beast but kept our distance. Then Nerun had the idea of driving the creature into the mine and collapsing the entrance.”

  Jiron nodded. “If you can’t overcome it, then contain it?”

  “Exactly. We figured that once it was trapped inside, it would starve and eventually die.”

  “But?”

  Illan sighed. “There’s an intelligence to the beast and we lost five good men before it entered the mine. Once there, it remained just within the entrance. My men can get to within fifty feet of it, but after that, they become like the villagers.”

  “You can’t get close enough to collapse the entrance unless the beast moves farther into it.”

  “Yes. We’ve tried archers and slingers, but nothing seems to be able to dislodge it from the entrance.”

  Face bearing confusion, Potbelly asked, “If it won’t move, shouldn’t your archers be able to kill it?”

  “Arrows and bullets can’t reach the creature. They slow as they draw near, then once their momentum is lost, fall to the ground.” He glanced to James. “We think the creature is magical in some way.”

  James remained silent in thought for a moment. “You said it was half man. What does it look like?”

  “It walks upright as does a man, though stands head and shoulders over anyone I’ve ever known. A dark brown fur covers its entire body, except for the belly which lies exposed. For hands it has claws that curve unnaturally. But it would have to be its face that disturbs me most.

  “Though overall human in appearance, the face is anything but. The nose is twice as big as yours and mine and has slits up both sides; dark eyes devoid of white stare out from beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows; and extending from its lower jaw are two fangs similar to that of a wolf.”

  Jira looked up to Jiron, worry in her eyes. “What is it, Father?”

  Jiron merely shook his head and motioned for her to keep silent. His eyes remained on James and the concerned look that had come over him.

  “Any ideas on what we’re facing?” Illan asked.

  James paced back and forth, then paused at the window to gaze at those within the stockade. “I take it a creature of this sort has not been seen before?” Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Illan shake his head.

  “Never.”

  “In that case, either a mage of some power created it, or…”

  “Or what?”

  Turning from the window, he allowed his gaze to flit from face to face before saying, “Or the creature is the mage.”

  Miko nodded. “Let us hope that this creature is the mage, then.”

  “Why?” Kip asked.

  “Because, young novice, if the creature is not the mage, then we may have a bigger problem on our hands.”

  When a confused expression came to Kip’s face, Father Vickor said, “What he means is that if a mage created this, there could be more.”

  James sighed. “There’s only one way to know for sure.”

  “Go to the mine?”

  He glanced to Jiron and nodded. “I’m afraid so.” Noting the eager look upon Scar’s face, he shook his head. “Just myself and Miko. There’s magic involved, most likely powerful. He and I are the only ones capable of defending against it.”

  “Not so,” Scar argued.

  Reaching into the front of his shirt, he pulled forth a silver rune-inscribed silver medallion that hung upon a silver chain. “I have a charm that will keep me safe.”

  “Ever tested its power?”

  “Well, no. But the man who sold it to me professed its protective properties.”

  James stepped closer and placed his hand next to, but not touching, the silvery surface. He held it there for several seconds. “You were cheated, Scar.”

  Looking indignant, Scar said, “You can’t feel its power until it flares to life in
response to a magical attack.”

  “Truly?”

  Scar glanced to Miko just as a bolt of white light left the High Priest’s hand and slammed into the Pit Master’s chest. The impact knocked him back two steps.

  The blow took everyone by surprise.

  “What was that?” Potbelly exclaimed.

  Miko grinned. “Oh, a little trick I have been working on.”

  “Priest magic?” James asked.

  “Something like that.” To Scar he asked, “Are you all right?”

  The front of Scar’s tunic showed no sign of the attack. Rubbing his hand along the site of the impact, he looked at the High Priest and nodded. He then lifted the amulet and gazed at the runic design. “Maybe it doesn’t work with priestly magic?”

  “Okay, then. My turn.” Motioning to the others to move back, James cast a grin to Jiron.

  “Aren’t you worried someone may discover there is a mage here?”

  “With that creature out there? It’s going to cover anything I do to Scar.” His grin faded as he turned back toward Scar. “Ready?” He could see uncertainty in the Pit Master’s eyes.

  “Uh…”

  “Sure he is,” Potbelly replied. “Hit him with your best shot.”

  “Knock him through the wall!” hollered Shorty.

  “Just remember,” Miko cautioned, “what you break, I’ll have to fix.”

  James brought his arm back as if to cast a spell.

  Scar’s eyes widened as the arm shot forward.

  As his arm came to full extension, a small bubble formed in the air and began wafting its way forward.

  “Oooooh, watch out, Scar!” exclaimed Potbelly with barely restrained mirth. “It’s going to get you.”

  Laughter filled the room as the bubble reached halfway toward its victim.

  Scar laughed uneasily, eyes never leaving the gently wafting bubble. When it came to within a foot, he backed away. The bubble picked up speed as if sensing Scar’s attempt to escape. When his back hit the wall, he held the amulet up in an attempt to interpose it between the bubble and himself.

  As deftly as a butterfly traipsing among the thorny spines of a rosebush, the bubble darted around the medallion and shot toward Scar’s face.

  The back of his head slammed against the wall’s wooden planks as he tried moving away. Eyes wide with uneasy anticipation, he braced for contact. When it struck his cheek, a very loud “raspberry” noise sounded, followed immediately afterward by a “pop.”